


Awake

by whatdoyouthinkmyjobis



Series: Hunters on the Hellmouth [63]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambush, Archangels, Bringers, Dragons, F/M, Final Battle, Fire, Friendship, Hellmouth (BtVS), Horsemen's Rings (Supernatural), Near Death Experiences, Original Mythology, Possession, Self-Sacrifice, Spells & Enchantments, Sunnydale (BtVS), Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-10
Updated: 2019-05-10
Packaged: 2020-02-29 16:51:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18782269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis/pseuds/whatdoyouthinkmyjobis
Summary: Having secured the Horsemen's rings, all the Winchesters need it a plan to save Sam from Lucifer, but Michael isn't going to get them enough time to figure it out.





	Awake

**Author's Note:**

> I added the epilogue to the end of this chapter rather than give it its own post. Sorry if that's confusing.

_Beautiful_ , Spike thought. _No wonder she didn’t want to come back._

He felt warm and light, like he was floating in tropical waters. Beyond his closed lids, he could sense something bright, but he couldn’t will his eyes to open. He was happy. Peaceful. Heaven had to be even better than this; although, he didn’t expect to experience it. Hell was waiting, but it could wait another minute.

No. Spike tried to move. The soft warmth that embraced him held him tighter. It felt reassuring. He wanted to go back to sleep.

He had to get up. He had to go somewhere. _Where?_

Comfort gripped him. He was light. Floating. Guilt-free. Was this righteousness?

Spike groped around his mind for something solid. A feeling. A memory.

_Where was Buffy?_ That had to be it, didn’t it? Spike tried to picture her face. Her downturned eyes alight with laughter.

His throat grew dry as he dwelled on her. His skin felt like it would crack. If he lost focus for one moment, he slipped back into warmth and security.

The sharp slope of her nose. The alluring angle of her neck. The lilac smell of her skin.

A cry of agony replaced his peace. If felt like a hot wind would tear his skin from bone if it didn’t cook him alive first. Everything felt unbearably hard.

With herculean effort, Spike opened his eyes. He fell to the ground, scraping his palms against the sidewalk, coughing as if he’d been buried in sand. Even the fading sun felt too bright.

Hello, said a voice in his head. _I am relieved to see you._

“Me too, Feathers. You weren’t going easy on me, were you?”

_No, I did my best to suppress you. We’ve been wandering around Sunnydale for hours._

Hours? He had to get faster at breaking through. Hours was long enough to lose everything.

_Spike, we’re not alone._

Spike could feel it behind him. He got up slowly and turned to see a Bringer – an eyeless spy – a few paces behind him. “Enjoying the show?”

It drew a blade from its belt.

The glint of a knife failed to stir any emotion. The creature may as well have brandished a toy for all the alarm it raised in Spike. Who was a Bringer to a divine being like him?

The Bringer charged. Spike raised his hand, catching the creature by its head. A second. A cry. A corpse, eyes burned out from a glimpse of the horribly holy.

* * *

 

Spike’s second tussle with Castiel was shorter, though no less draining. As he pushed himself back up off the street, the sun gave one last gasp before giving up to night.

Night in Sunnydale.

Spike looked around to get his bearings. Storefronts, old brick buildings, and – he let out a sharp laugh when his eyes landed on the ‘67 Impala. “Were you just aching to see your mates?” he asked his angel passenger.

_No. As you’ve grown stronger, I’ve found you more and more difficult to steer._

The lights blazing in the Winchesters’ apartment window flipped off. A minute later, the purring of an engine stopped. They were turning off the generator for the night lest it attract vampires and Bringers.

The sound of Spike’s beating heart would attract monsters, too; not that he needed to worry. Rather than have a brawl in the street, he decided to head up the stairs and drop in on the Winchesters.

A few minutes after Spike had knocked, the locks clicked open, and Sam threw open the door, embracing Spike in a bear hug.

“Where were you?” Sam asked before shouting back into the apartment, “Guys, it’s Spike!”

_You seem surprised by Sam’s affection,_ Castiel said.

“Come in. We’re just doing research.” Sam smiled warmly.

Buffy appeared at the end of the short hall, a faint flush on her cheeks, a large grin on her lips. “Thank god, you’re okay! You freaked us out with your disappearing act.”

_She cares about you_ , Castiel said.

_Shut up!_ Spike batted at the better angel in his mind.

Sharing his mind – his darkest fears and dirtiest secrets – with any creature was Spike’s least favorite part. He’d rather remember his cruelest kills then have another being picking at his scabs.

Inside, the candle-lit living room looked cozy. Homey. Dean and Bobby gave brief hellos before returning to scour through books Spike himself had studied many times. He knew exactly what they were looking for. “Still trying to find an escape route?” he asked Sam.

Sam nodded somberly. “They’re determined. But I’ve read through all the books we have, and there’s not a single chapter called _Sam Gets To Live_.”

“Not funny,” Dean grumbled.

Sam looked at Spike and shrugged.

_This is where Sam and Dean live?_ Castiel asked. _For some reason, I expected more neon beer signs._

“You want a beer?” Dean asked.

“I’ll get some.” With a downcast look, Sam didn’t even wait for a response. “I don’t feel like looking at books right now.”

Spike sat in an armchair across from Bobby. Buffy had reclaimed her seat on the worn leather couch beside Dean. She looked happier than she had in weeks. It wasn’t a leap to imagine them gathered around a dinner table, Bobby carving a turkey, Dean bouncing a blonde baby on his knee, Buffy – surrounded by family and friends – glowing with happiness.

He imagined the scene with Sam, of course. Whenever he tried to imagine Sam gone, sacrificed to the Hellmouth to save them all, it broke the spell. In that scenario, Spike imagined Dean hollow-eyed, sour beer on his breath, looking for a fight every night. He imagined Buffy rescuing Dean over and over, trying to save him from his own depression until it finally swallowed him whole.

Spike couldn’t let that happen.

Buffy’s eyes kept darting to him. Finally, she gave up on her book. “Where did you go? Jo said you got all weird and left.”

“Just needed to think,” Spike said.

Sam returned with an armful of beers. “We’re glad you showed up when you did. We were thinking about sending out another search party.”

“For me?” Spike asked with genuine surprise.

“The whole lot of us went Marco Poloing for you for a few hours.” Buffy’s eyes were soft and glowing. “You’re important to us. Sunnydale at night? Come on.”

_You’re important to us._ Her words sent a warm ripple through Spike’s body.

_You still love her_ , Castiel observed.

_Seriously, I don’t need a highlight reel,_ Spike shot back. _I love her, yes, but I don’t crave her. And she doesn’t need me. Dean will take care of her just fine._

“You missed Castiel’s funeral,” Buffy said.

“Not Cas,” Spike and Dean said in unison. They locked eyes for an awkward second before Dean added, “Jimmy, his vessel.”

“Got an inside look, thanks.” Spike sipped his beer. It was warm, but he didn’t mind.

_Was the funeral nice?_ Castiel asked. _Jimmy deserved something nice._

Spike sighed internally. “I’m sure everyone ‘ad a good sniffle.”

Sam nodded. “We weren’t sure about his religion, so Keisha sang some hymns, Rachel recited the Mourner’s Kaddish, and Maya made a flower garland for his remains for good measure.”

_That sounds lovely,_ Castiel said.

Bobby snapped his book shut and tossed it on the pile near where Sam was sitting on the floor. “Where are those new books you brought?”

Sam pointed to a duffel against the wall. “They aren’t going to have an answer either.”

“Still worth a look,” Bobby grumbled as he got up.

It didn’t seem fair, not that the world ever had been. Sam was a good man. Kind-hearted, smart, sensitive, self-sacrificing. Why was he Lucifer’s chosen vessel? Spike knew about the demon blood Sam had been fed as a baby. It was one of many revelations he’d made when they’d been captured by Lucifer’s minions months back. But why did the Devil want someone so _good_?

“I’m glad you made it back,” Spike said, looking at Dean.

“Now we’re just waiting for the Apocalypse.” Sam sipped his beer ruefully.

“Not what I meant,” Spike said.

“We’re not ready, anyway,” Dean said, glaring at his brother.

“Sure we are.” Sam returned the stare. “We have the key to the cage. We have a location to open it. We even have get away cars all ready for the girls. All we need is Michael.”

_Michael will be here soon. I can feel him._

“And a way to save you,” Buffy said quietly for Dean who was a mix of clenched teeth and red eyes.

“What if,” Spike asked tentatively, “Michael comes soon. Tonight, maybe?”

Dean turned to him with unmasked alarm. “Why tonight?”

Spike shrugged. “I figure if the equivalent of Heaven’s bell’op can bring you two through, there’s no way the reigning angel can’t find a way through with ‘is vessel.”

_I am not a bellhop. I’m a warrior class. Heaven doesn’t even have bellhops._

“Then I say yes, and we end it,” Sam said firmly.

“No,” Dean said, quietly.

“What’s the point of opening the cage if we can’t get Lucifer in?”

“Goddamnit, I will push the asshole in myself before I let him possess you!” Dean snapped.

“You ain’t strong enough to hold the Devil, anyhow,” Bobby said calmly, resuming his study in the old plaid armchair.

“Then I’ll get ready!” Sam countered, weakly.

“Ready?” Spike asked.

Sam sighed. He seemed more and more beaten as the conversation continued. “To strengthen my body for an angel as strong as Lucifer, well, I’d,” he scanned the group and dropped his eyes to his hands, “I’d have to drink a bunch of demon blood.”

“How much?” Spike asked, aware that wasn’t the comforting response.

Sam shrugged. “A whole demon, maybe?”

Spike took a long final pull of his beer then stood up. “Right. I’m going to leave you all to family business. I need to see if Jo taped _Passions_ for me.”

_What’s_ Passions _?_ Castiel asked.

Everyone in the room looked at him just as quizzically as Castiel sounded.

“It’s dark out there, boy,” Bobby noted.

“I’ll drive you.” Sam quickly popped up and grabbed the car keys from a tray.

Spike bit back his urge to protest. It would have looked too suspicious.

_They care about you,_ Castiel said.

_Stop, please,_ Spike begged.

_I just think that you should be fully informed before committing to this decision. People will miss you._

_They’ll miss Sam more,_ Spike shot back as he and Sam descended the stairs. _Anymore heart-warming details you feel like sharing?_

_I think Jo might be interested in you. Romantically._

Thanks.

“Thanks for the offer, Sam, but I’ll walk back,” Spike said once they reached the bottom of the stairs.

“That’s insane, Spike. The town is crawling with vampires and Bringers.”

That was his hope. “Look, I can’t explain it to you, but I’ll be fine. Just stand in the stairwell for a while and pretend you drove me.”

The determination on Sam’s face was clear. “You’re my friend, Spike. I don’t want you to get killed.”

Spike patted Sam’s shoulder and smiled. “As my friend, could you just trust me?”

After a moment, Sam nodded.

“Thanks, and Sam? Don’t say yes. No matter what.” With that warning, Spike turned away into the night.

* * *

 

“Watch out boy she’ll chew you up / (Oh here she comes) / She’s a maneater,” Jo sang along with the music as she flipped through a stack of CDs. The best part of crashing in this stranger’s home was the owner’s extensive collection of 80s music, some of it even on vinyl.

Not long after the Harvelles arrived in Sunnydale, they, Andrew, and several Potentials had moved out of Buffy’s house and into an unoccupied brick ranch two doors down. Her mom, she’d noticed, spent her days fussing over all the girls and baking. So much baking. Jo knew this was a stress tick, but she wasn’t going to argue about fresh cornbread muffins.

Jo split her time putting on a brave face for the girls and quietly sobbing into a beer in her bedroom. She’d been given a second lease on life only to have it jerked away again. The painful memory of having her guts ripped open by a Hellhound was still hot and putrid, and the idea of going into another situation like that with the burning knowledge of what could happen made her newly healed stomach turn.

For the first time in her life, Jo Harvelle wanted to turn tail and run. Thankfully, that wasn’t a problem for today. They were in a stalemate until the Winchesters found a way to spare Sam, or until Michael arrived.

She leaned back on her elbows and looked at the Potentials she’d been charged with. The youngest, fifteen-year-old Rachel, danced carefree to the Hall and Oates song currently blasting through the stereo. Like Jo, Rachel had lost her father at a young age, and she’d already seen her share of bodies here in Sunnydale. She’d survived the battle at the winery, yet she still danced.

How could Jo turn her back on a girl like Rachel?

Jo got up to dance with her until the stereo shuffled to the next song – “Purple Rain.” Betje and Lara – two of the strongest, most experienced girls who had both witnessed the murders of their Watchers – stood looking out of the big picture window.

“Vot do you think they are doing?” Lara asked, arms crossed protectively. She was not one to express much other than rage.

Betje combed her fingers through her short blue hair. “No idea.”

Jo joined them peering out into the street. In the moonlight, she could made out dozens of figures looking back at her house, at Xander’s, at Buffy’s. At every occupied home remaining in Sunnydale. At this point, they were used to vampire spies, but this was the first time she had seen the creepy robed Bringers.

Jo shivered slightly. “They can’t get us in here,” she said for herself as much as for the girls.

“This isn’t our house.” Betje was all business.

“But it’s warded,” Jo reminded them. “Let them look. They can’t get in.”

The cd player shuffled again and belted out the first chords of “Bad Reputation.”

A cunning grin spread across Betje’s face. “Let’s give them something to watch.” She jumped into the middle of the room, dancing with Rachel who played air guitar. Betje sang along at the top of her lungs, for the moment, carefree.

* * *

 

Willow felt confident the Potentials would not destroy the house. Well, not her Potentials anyway. Ever since That Day (Buffy’s possession followed by the angels’ visit and Hecate’s appearance tended to be referred to only in whispers and ambiguities), Willow had been teaching her quartet of magically-inclined Potentials how to cast a protective shield spell. None of them were top tier fighters, but shielding the others could prove useful.

They’d started by trying to keep a paper crane still while Willow blew magical gusts of air at it. The cranes had flown all around the room. After weeks of practice, not only were Ella, Alma, Ju and Eva able to keep the cranes still, but they could also work together to cast a shield the size of a car; with Willow’s help, the size of a house.

A warm cup of tea in her hands, Willow left her mini coven as they tried to teach Margo – who showed no magical skills at all – how to levitate a pencil. This was the perfect night for turning in early with a book.

For a moment after she opened her bedroom door and saw Dawn making up a cot, Willow was surprised. Ever since the Potentials had arrived, Dawn had bunked with Willow and left her room to Giles. In the three weeks since That Day, Dawn had been staying with her sister at the Winchester’s apartment.

But now the boys were back in town.

“Hey, Dawnie! Just like old times, huh?” Willow said, sweetly.

Dawn groaned and flopped onto her cot.

“Oh, sweetie! Bummed about being left behind?”

“Not really. This is way better than crashing in Jada’s apartment.” Dawn propped herself up on her elbow. “It’s just – Did you ever find a shirt that you used to wear when you were a little kid, and you couldn’t believe you were ever that small? That’s how the house feels.”

Willow sat on the edge of her bed. Pajamas and books would have to wait. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there aren’t any old times. I feel like this whole Apocalypse thing, especially That Day, sort of ripped time into before and after.” She added quietly, “Like when Mom died.”

“Things will settle down again, you’ll see. This is what? Our seventh Apocalypse? Things get rumbly, we knock them down, things chill out for a bit. It’s the circle of Sunnydale. Once the Potentials go back home, everything will feel normal again.”

Dawn shook her head but said nothing.

“You know, no one’s wanted to claim Buffy’s room if you want a big bed all to yourself,” Willow said with a pleasant smile.

“Nah, I’d rather crash with you if it’s okay.”

Unzipping her bag, Dawn pulled out a familiar pair of sushi pajamas and Mr. Gordo. She hugged the plush pig to her chest. “Assuming we all live through this, do you think Buffy and Dean are going to get married?”

That question threw Willow for a loop. She still hadn’t processed Buffy’s pregnancy revelation – something she was sure Dawn was in the dark about. Married? “Where does that fall on the scale of not normal?”

Still playing with the pig, Dawn grinned. “Not all change is bad. So if we’re in a before/after situation, it’d be cool if one of those events was actually, you know, nice. Besides, a proposal after the adrenaline rush of saving the world would be super romantic.”

“Pretty sure Buffy would prefer a nice dinner. Minimal fighting.”

“I guess. That sounds like her, too.” Dawn set Mr. Gordo on her pillow. “Was there a line for the bathroom?”

* * *

 

Dean stripped before quickly dashing under his covers. “Ahhhh!” He’d missed the feel of his flannel sheets against his skin. His pillow that smelled faintly of Buffy’s shampoo. His bed. His home.

Returning to the road life after months in Sunnydale felt like ripping open a scab. Every little thing he used to think of as a quirk of the life – the stale smell of cigarettes in the room, bad coffee, bumpy mattresses, scuzzy gas station bathrooms – got under his skin. Needling reminders that he was far from home. Far from Buffy.

Apparently, he didn’t hide his irritation well. At one point, Sam had popped in Dean’s favorite Led Zeppelin tape and suggested they not speak until the state line.

But now he was home (for a little while at least) and waiting for the woman of his dreams to come to bed.

He could feel his length stiffen the moment she stepped into the room. Her hair was clipped up, exposing her long neck. Wearing only one of his t-shirts, she shivered slightly as she climbed into bed.

“Is it warm enough to have the windows open?” She scrunched up her nose disapprovingly at the small crack letting in the night air.

“We could get warm.” He grinned boyishly and removed the clip from her hair. Her tousled waves cascaded over her shoulders. “I never get tired of that.”

She bit her lip thoughtfully. “You know, I dreamed of you every night you were gone.”

He’d dreamed of her too. It was their wedding day. With Sam riding shotgun, Dean was trying to get to the church; only they kept stopping to save people. With each turn, another monster. Another innocent. Eventually, Dean’s tux was splattered with blood. He wasn’t sure if he ever made it to the altar, but he knew it was the first time in his life he’d dreamed of getting married.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he said.

The first flaming bottle crashed through the window.

* * *

 

Screaming wrenched Willow from her sleep. Before she could dash downstairs, a molotov cocktail smashed her window, breaking on the frame and catching fire. She yanked the flaming curtains from the wall and smothered the fire with her quilt.

Dozens of Bringers and vampires gathered on the lawn. In the middle of the crowd stood Buffy.

Willow’s vision went white.

* * *

 

Sam and Bobby met on the landing where the old hunter handed him an axe. “Guess Spike was right.”

“We don’t know if Michael’s here,” Sam said, but he knew in his gut this was the end. They had to get to Sunnydale High. He should have plenty of demons to drink there.

“Dean?” Bobby asked.

“On his way.”

“Good thing we were ready,” said Bobby.

Sam adjusted the bag of books on his shoulder. They hadn’t unpacked after arriving home. Instead, Sam and Dean had packed up their few mementos – photographs, cards, Dad’s journal, even a few of Buffy’s things – knowing that their time in the apartment would be limited.

They hadn’t expected it to be this limited.

Two duffels landed with a thud just outside the Winchesters’ door quickly followed by Dean and Buffy.

Buffy snapped her cell phone shut. “Dawn said it’s cocktail hour over there, too.” She readied her glistening bow. “Dawn’s with Giles,” she said to no one.

Smoke began pouring out of the apartment. They hurried down the stairs, away from the fire and towards the monsters.

Something heavy and snarling hit the street door.

“Ready?” Sam asked.

Dean mouthed _one, two, three_. He kicked the front door open and fired into the monstrous crowd.

* * *

 

They had barely doused the last fire when a second volley of bottles assailed the house. One crashed against a Potential’s skull, bathing her in accelerant and flame, sending the girl to the floor screaming while others tossed wet blankets on her in vain. The blankets sizzled and smoked.

The stink of charred hair still hung in the air when the third assault began.

Beyond the broken window, Giles could see Potentials streaming from the other houses. Better to fight than to burn. “Everyone grab weapons!” he shouted, shoving a sword in someone’s hands. “And shoes!”

Immediately, girls gathered at the door. The best fighters first, followed by the girls whom Willow had taught a protection spell, then everyone else. Robin had parked a school bus on the block, and Bobby had hot-wired dozens of cars in the last few weeks. They just needed to get in the vehicles and rush to the school.

This was the simple part of the night.

“Giles, we have a problem,” said Dawn, rushing down the stairs.

He passed out weapons in a flurry – crossbow, stake, bo staff. “Bit of an understatement.”

“What’s our Plan B for if Willow goes all Hec-a-no?” She pointed outside.

Moving closer to the window, Giles saw Willow, phasing between three forms, screaming at and floating over Buffy. “I take it that isn’t your sister.”

“Nope. She called. She’s on her way to the school with the Winchesters and Bobby.”

“Lucifer still doesn’t have a vessel, so at least Hecate isn’t fighting It. I suppose, if it comes down to it, we can tie Willow to the bus like a balloon.” Giles turned back to the girls waiting for his signal. “The plan hasn’t changed. Everyone go!”

Flame licked up the curtains and jumped to the ceiling. The heat in the packed house squeezed their lungs.

“We can’t fight them!” said Ju. Usually flippantly cool, now she was trembling. The vampire bite she got at the vineyard still blazed, two angry pink dots, on her neck.

Grabbing her by the shoulders, Giles looked into her eyes. “Ju, you can do this. You can save yourself. You can save others.”

“But I’m not a Slayer!”

He slipped an axe into her unsteady hands and closed her fingers firmly around it. “You will be.”

* * *

 

Betje burst from the front door, slicing through two Bringers in one stroke. She rolled to her left, cutting a swath through the crowd.

Keisha and Lara stepped forward with aerosol hairspray and lighters, setting four vampires on fire. Other girls streamed out from behind them, plunging their stakes in the in vampire’s hearts, hacking off the heads of other monsters.

“Go! Go! Go!” Karen blocked for some of the greener girls as she fought her way to her car. She swung open the back door, shoving three girls inside with one push. “Come on!” she screamed, cursing for those left behind. She tossed Rachel and Mio in the crowded backseat and slammed the door closed.

Before Karen could shove anyone up front, something grabbed her ankles. She dropped to the driveway, air knocked from her lungs, where she saw a vampire under her car. It hissed, bared its fangs, and bit her leg. Gritting her teeth, Karen plunged a stake into the monster’s eye before scrambling into her driver’s seat. She backed up, the front wheels thumping over the vampire. For good measure, she drove over it again before throwing open the passenger door and collecting three more Potentials.

A light, the same icy blue that kept cracking through Castiel’s skin, flashed in her rearview mirror. Bodies flew threw the air. Karen gunned it.

* * *

 

From the across the street, Spike watched the Impala pull up to the high school and spill out its heroes – three divine vessels and Bobby Singer. Wedged between the Winchesters, Buffy and her golden bow seemed impossibly small. The rag-tag family crept into the school, prepared to follow through with Sam’s suicide mission.

Spike lit a cigarette and took a long drag. The smoke burned his new lungs, but he kept the cough down. He’d missed smoking. “Lucifer, we need to talk.”

He waited.

“Lucifer?”

At his right hand, the image of Buffy appeared, a mixture of surprise and pleasure on her face.

“You don’t need much ceremony, do you?” Spike said.

“You’re an old friend, Spike,” she replied. “Although, you did disappoint me.” She pouted at him playfully. It struck Spike that the real Buffy would never do this. Lucifer had had access to so much of Buffy inside of Spike’s mind, but the archangel still didn’t understand her.

He still underestimated her.

Spike sucked on the inside of his cheeks. “You wanted me to hurt her.”

She grinned. “And now I don’t need you to hurt her.”

“‘Bout that.” Spike hoped the fallen archangel couldn’t sense what had been in him. “There’s no chance of winning here, is there?”

Buffy, or the cold and capricious idea of Buffy born of his broken heart and shattered mind, shook her head.

A few vampires entered the school. He wondered how many it would take to open the Hellmouth and what horrors lay beneath.

He tossed his cigarette on the grass and ground it out with his toe. “Then you can use me.”

“What?”

“Yes, the answer’s yes.” Spike held his arms wide in surrender. “I’ll be your vessel thing for the end of the bloody world.”

The-First-as-Buffy cocked her head to the side, inspecting him for cracks, for schemes. “Why? Why now?”

“Like I said. End of the world. I don’t want to see how it ends.”

“But I want you to,” she said with syrupy slowness. Stretching on her toes, she whispered into his ear, “I want you to watch her burn.”

“A fine and dandy thing for the Devil to want,” Spike shoved his hand through her chest, “but you’re still short a body. Unless you think darlin’ Sammy’s going to change his mind. Your big brother’s coming, isn’t ‘e? Pick a pony or you’ll lose the race.”

* * *

 

Right and left, tires squealed as carloads of kids took off for the school. _Ellen, Karen, Jo, Anya, Xander,_ Dawn ticked them off as they escaped. She shouted at remaining pajama-clad army to get on the bus, in the safety of the shield Willow’s small coven of Potentials had put up.

“I think we’ve routed most of them,” Ella, one of the witches-in-training said, optimistically.

Dawn played along. “It’s a good thinning. Monster pattern baldness. Now we have to get in and go.”

Out of nowhere, a spear pinned Ella to the bus. Blood trickled from her mouth as she tried to pull it out.

The shield collapsed.

Before she could scream, something yanked Dawn down by her hair. She scraped her palms against the asphalt. A vampire dropped on top of her, laughing.

Dawn yanked a cross from her pocket and slapped it against his cheek.

The vampire howled but did not move.

Her stake was underneath her, grinding into her back. She felt around her for anything and came up with a rock. She bashed it into the monster’s face, snapping a fang.

Another vampire ran over and tugged on her assailant. “We gotta go, bro!”

Blood oozing from the burn and the bash, he snarled at his friend. “Not until she’s dinner!”

But there was a nervous urgency in the other vampire’s eyes. The vampire punched Dawn in the jaw before running off.

Then, Lucifer-as-Buffy disappeared, and Willow-sans-goddess fell to the earth. The sudden lack of vampire snarls and Hecate’s chorus of shouting cast an eerie quiet.

Giles rushed to where Willow lay prone on the lawn and scooped her into his arms.

Dawn stumbled onto the bus.

“Dawn! God!” Robin eased her into a seat.

The bus stank of sweat and blood. Ella hung limp on the spear just outside Dawn’s window. And beyond that. “What? Noooo! No reinforcements! Not for the bad guys!” Dawn whined.

Robin peered out the window. “Cover your face.” Using the butt of the gun, he broke the window, then raised his shotgun loaded with Bobby’s modified bullets, to his shoulder, and shot at a pair of Turok-Han that had appeared down the street.

_Click. Click. BOOM!_

Robin leaned out of the bus window shouting, “ON THE BUS NOW! MOVE!”

Before the monstrous vampires, stinging from the bullets, could make it down the block, the sky lit up with a blue streak of lightning, touching down where the uber-vampires stood. In their place stood a young man, tall and thin. He would have looked handsome if the sight of him wasn’t so terrifying.

“Did he just fall from the _fooking sky?!_ ” Kate shouted.

Someone shushed her. The hair on Dawn’s arms prickled. She felt the shush in her soul. _Don’t draw attention to us. He. Is. Dangerous._

The remaining Potentials bolted for the bus. Giles followed, crashing into girls, Willow slipping from his arms. Their bodies jerked as Robin threw the bus in reverse.

“Who is that?” Wook asked quietly. Her close-cropped hair was matted down with glossy blood. It looked like the blood now soaking her shirt would never stop.

“I believe,” said Giles as he checked Wook’s head for the wound, “Michael has arrived.”

Blue lightning arcing from his back, the young man down the block raised his hands, sending all of the Bringers and remaining vampires into the air. With a clap of his hands, the monsters turned to mist.

* * *

 

Xander held his breath until the bus arrived at the school. Buffy had given him marching orders: pack his car full of Potentials and drive. Do not stop to collect Willow or Dawn or $200.

“Since when do we leave people behind?” he’d asked her.

Tears had rimmed her eyes, but she’d been too determined to let them fall. “This is beyond us. If Heaven and Hell break loose, we won’t have time to stop to look for people. Get the Potentials to the school. Save the world.”

“Dawn, Willow, Giles. Dawn, Willow, Giles,” Xander muttered under his breath. Saving the world was Buffy’s fate. He just wanted his family to be safe. “If we’re cutting deals, I can live with just Dawn and Will.”

A small, familiar hand squeezed his. Xander turned and locked eyes with Anya. “I’m sorry.” The words tumbled out of him without thinking. “I’m sorry for everything.”

Anya pursed her lips. “I’m here, Xander. If I survive, no promises I won’t take off, but for now I’m here.”

“Me too,” said a voice from behind him.

Anya and Xander both turned to look at Andrew, hand over his heart, gazing at them lovingly.

“Oh goody,” Xander deadpanned.

The bus pulled up, blood decorating the side in an ugly smear, and the door sighed open. The girls – in pajamas, pigtails and retainers – streamed out, their chatter an equal mix of saddened and excited.

“Did you see–?”

“She didn’t make it.”

“Do we have first aid?”

Finally, his eyes fell on Dawn, scraped and bruised but alive. She cut to the point: “Michael’s here.”

“Isn’t that good,” asked Rona, who’d escaped in his car. “Ain’t he here to put Lucifer in line?”

“It’s good in the ‘Golly, I want to die young as a sacrifice’ way,” said Anya.

Xander patted Anya’s shoulder. “Not helping.”

“Best to not gather outside. Into the school now,” Giles said.

“Oh my God, no!” shouted Anya, pointing at Willow, unconscious, in Robin’s arms.

Xander rushed to his friend’s side.

“She wears those on purpose to give me nightmares, doesn’t she?” Anya pointed at the offending bunny slippers on Willow’s feet.

“She went full goddess, but didn’t bother to fight a single monster,” Robin explained ruefully.

“Why am I always missing this goddess thing?” Xander asked as he checked his friend out for injuries.

Anya shook her head. “No way. Dark Willow, Vampire Willow, and straight Willow are enough alternative Willows for me. I draw a line!”

“We’re at the big game without a QB. Can our B team pick up the slack?” Xander asked.

Giles looked at him quizzically. “Suffice to say, our fate would look rosier if we woke her up.”

Inside the school, the walls were covered in graffiti - of both the dumb kid and the occult varieties. A trashcan fire blazed in the hallway. Reddish-brown smears and flecks peppered the walls and floor. One streak had the distinct look of hands being dragged. An undisturbed layer of dust coated the floor. Five Bringers lay dead or dying by the office door where two more were trying to break in. Jo shot one in the head. Maya gutted the other.

Behind the door, someone moved a barricade of furniture before finally snapping the lock open. Sam peeked out of the office, grinning at them with his boyish dimples. “About time you got here.”

Buffy rushed to Dawn, sweeping her up in a tight hug. When they finally released, Buffy looked at her sister from head to toe. “Are those my pajamas?”

“Is that Dean’s shirt?” Dawn tugged on the large tee Buffy had knotted just above her jeans.

“Where are zee vampires?” asked wide-eyed Eva, visibly shaking.

Bobby, holding up the intercom, waved from inside the room.

“Exorcised,” Dean said. “They didn’t have souls, so poof.”

Robin nodded his approval. “Do you think that will work on Turok-Han?”

No one knew, so they didn’t lay odds.

Buffy took Willow in her arms and sat on the floor cradling her. “How long has she been out?” she asked quietly.

“How long was the drive?” Robin replied.

“We need her.”

“Understatement.”

Suddenly, Xander knew how to help. He leaned over and clapped his hands by Willow’s head. “Hey, Will! Time for the Algebra test!”

Willow sat up, surprised. “But I haven’t studied!” She quickly patted her body. “Okay. Dressed. Not that nightmare.”

“Different nightmare. More fangs.” Xander extended a hand to help her up.

“Speaking of nightmares–”

Giles cut Anya off. “Timing. Apocalypse.”

With Buffy, the trio of old friends pressed passed the cubicles to Robin’s old office. Everything they needed to summon Hecate was laid out on his desk – sand, candles, honey, and Artemis’ bow and arrows.

“Should be a cake walk, Will.” Xander clapped her on the shoulder. “I hear your goddess has already given a good tongue lashing tonight.”

“Cake.” Willow traced her fingers over the curve of the bow. “Mercurial, powerful cake that could swallow me. Oh! I need anchors.”

The Slayer snapped into leader mode. “Bobby, Xander, Dawn, help Will. Giles, Anya, Robin, take the north hall. Andrew, Ellen, Jo, take the south. I don’t know what the Hellmouth holds, but I’m betting it’s not a BOGO sale on shoes. We have to keep it in. Dean, Sam, girls, you’re with me.”

“Where’s Spike?” Kate asked, looking around eagerly.

“Spike took off this afternoon,” Jo said.

“He what?” cried several voices.

“No, it’s okay,” Sam said. “We saw him tonight. In fact, I saw him heading down the hall before you all got here.”

“Alone?!” squealed Rachel.

“He knows what he’s doing,” Buffy said. “Let’s go.” 

* * *

 

Candles cast creepy shadows across the principal’s trashed office. Willow and her anchors had cleaned enough space to draw Hecate’s symbol with sand.

Placing Artemis’ weapon in her lap, Willow encouraged everyone to lay their hands on her. “Anchors don’t have to do anything. Just keep my soul from slipping into whatever soul-dimension Hecate is in. ”

“That don’t sound good.”

“It’s okay, Bobby,” said Dawn with a nervous smile. “Willow’s the most powerful witch in the world.”

“That don’t sound good either.”

Willow clutched the bow, focusing on its vibrations. _Ka-thump! Ka-Thump!_ A strong rhythm, like a heartbeat, like a battle march.

Before Hecate’s name had finished falling from Willow’s lips, her world turned black and cold. Above her, pearl moons eclipsed one another – two, now four, now six.

“Where am I?” Willow twisted and turned in the darkness, floating free.

In the distance, stars flickered to life in the shape of a woman with a series of smaller women in her, a nesting doll of light.

“You are in me as I am in you,” said Hecate’s alto chorus.

Willow tried to refrain from rolling her eyes. She didn’t have time for metaphysics when lives were at stake. “I heard you gave Lucifer the what for of his life. Surprised me. Those whats and fors.”

The stars in the distance flickered into an image of wings that quickly exploded into darkness. “My world is filthy with angels.”

“But you said that didn’t matter.” Willow struggled to keep her voice even. “You said they’d only destroy part of the world, part of humanity. That’s like losing an eyelash, right?”

Suddenly, the inky blackness was alight with a mural of people engaging in every human experience from the banal to the exciting. “I did not create this world, but I have enjoyed caring for it. I have enjoyed letting you humans play with magic that would normally be beyond your reach. I have enjoyed watching you walk and war, fight and feast.”

“Not to be a grammar stickler, but I’m not into your use of past tense. We humans are still alive. Michael just arrived. We can fight them!”

The glittering stars faded. “I tried to block them, to banish them to no avail. The world is infected with angels.”

“If you would just unchain Artemis–”

“No!” The stars flared so brightly, Willow had to close her eyes. “The Huntress betrayed me once. I will not count on her in this hour of need.”

Something in the distance caught Willow’s eye. When Hecate said _Huntress_ , a star twinkled.

Focusing on the star, Willow whispered, “Artemis.” The star blinked again. Unsure how to move in this space, Willow willed herself to the star.

Without warning, something grabbed her, and they flew. 

* * *

 

When Buffy and company arrived at the seal in the basement, they found Spike already tossing dead Bringers on it. Piled against the far wall were dozens and dozens of pale bodies.

The hairs on the back of Buffy’s neck stood on end.

“You’re not doing it,” Dean said in a low voice. “You’re not even ready anyway.”

Buffy shot Sam a quick glance. He was eyeing the bloody seal hungrily.

“You’ve been busy,” Buffy said. Something about Spike instinctively made her grip her weapon tighter. _Something’s wrong. Something’s wrong._

Spike smiled as he watched the blood spiral out of the Bringer, filling the goat-faced design. He swayed back and forth happily, as if he was listening to music. “Wasn’t sure ‘ow long you’d take.”

“‘Ow long _we’d_ take?” said Kate with a smirk. “Would a been a wee bit faster ‘ad you not gone rogue.”

The small room was getting more crowded by the second as more Potentials pushed in from the hallway. Buffy stood firm across the seal from Spike, but Kate rode the wave of people closer to him.

He looked hungry.

_There’s blood on his lip._ What was happening dawned on Buffy in a flash of horror, but there was no time for her to cry out.

Spike patted Kate’s cheeks as she gazed at him, happy to have his attention for a moment. “He always liked your spunk and pessimism.”

Then, he snapped her neck.

Dani raised her sword to strike him, and he blasted her against the wall with a sickening crack. She fell to ground limp, leaving a streak of blood and brain behind her.

The other girls, unsure of what was happening, shuffled back toward Buffy.

Spike clapped his hands together and rubbed them gleefully. “‘ow ‘bout we unleash a little Hell?”

The seal exploded. 

* * *

 

The school rumbled, shaking loose plaster. Jo choked up on her axe, its weight reassuring her. “So, Andrew, this gate ever opened before?”

He glanced at the ceiling while he chose his words. “I think it skipped its annual eruption last spring.”

“What’s come out of it?” Ellen asked.

“Well, I was kind of focused on surviving graduation, but I think I remember a dragony thing.”

The weight of Jo’s ax no longer reassured her. An army of vampires she could fight, but a dragon? How on earth could she keep that in the school, let alone kill it?

Something snarled behind her. Two dozen yellow-eyed vampires stood at the school’s entrance, grinning at them hungrily.

“Showtime.” 

* * *

 

Buffy fell, the rubble of Lucifer-in-Spike’s blast battering her, cutting her, until she landed with a thud, all the air and fight knocked out of her. Roughly thirty feet above her, the door to the seal room hung open at a funny angle. The rocky stairs under the seal remained intact, though perilous, with large gaps in spots.

Unphased, Lucifer-in-Spike sat beside her and caressed her cheek. “I’ve dreamed of touching you since I landed on your little Hellmouth. I’ve dreamed of ripping off your skin and snapping all of your fragile bones. Earth’s protector is just one girl.”

Ears still ringing, Buffy patted the ground around her for a weapon. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see blurry Potentials wearily trying to stand.

Lucifer continued, “I knew Spike was obsessed with you, but now that I’m in here – _goddamn_ , he doesn’t think about anything else. In fact, this bastard thought he could save you by controlling me. Isn’t that funny? He’s screaming right now, wants me to leave you alone, but I want him to watch you suffer first.”

He snatched a sword that had landed near her, and plunged it into her gut. 

* * *

 

Dean had landed near the edge of a chasm. Rachel landed closer, the hard fall of her small frame enough to widen the cracked edge of the ledge. She was barely sitting up, wiping blood from her nose, when the ledge collapsed. Dean grabbed her hand, her body stopping with a jerk and bouncing against the rock. Far below her, a slew of monsters – Turok-Han, Gorgons, Hellhounds, Hydra – looked up and unleashed a deafening roar.

Rachel shook her head, fat tears flowing. “Don’t let go. Please.”

A cry of pain to his right. Buffy. He tried to block it out as the monsters raced up the walls toward Rachel. “I got you, sweetheart. It’s okay,” Dean said, pulling her up.

Suddenly, Dean was flying through the air listening to Rachel scream as she tumbled into the abyss.

Spike stood over him, yanked him up by his collar and grinned at him. “Hello, Dean. Time to play.”

* * *

 

Willow could not twist to see what was carrying her. Whatever it was made her feel warm and safe, like sitting beside a fire.

The _ka-thump! Ka-Thump!_ of the bow’s energy grew louder. As Willow drew closer, she saw the star was actually a glistening cage. Inside the cage, a golden figure teetering between girl and woman, trapped in a heavy sleep, lay curled on a bed of evergreen boughs.

Willow alighted near the cage, hovering in space. She turned to behold a creature at least twice her height. It had a face and hands of mirror-like molten silver. Its many wings covered its eyes and feet while another pair furled out from its back. The feathers glinted like diamonds and rattled like swords. Small arcs of lightening traveled between the tips of the wings haloing its entire being.

“Do not be afraid.” Its voice sounded like the thunder of a thousand kettle drums. It’s mouth flicked like a blue flame.

Willow tried to scurry back – for she was very much afraid – but there was nothing for her to push against. She twisted and turned in the void, helpless.

“Willow, I am Castiel.”

She stopped twisting for a moment and considered the possibility. “Then why am I not angel-blinded like Steph was?”

“Because you’re not physically here,” he replied. “I am also trying to mask myself as much as I can.”

“Mask _what_?!”

Suddenly, Hecate landed with a primal scream so deafening, Willow feared it would snap her ribs. “Get _ooouuut_ , angel! GET OUT!”

The stars flared so brightly, Willow squeezed her eyes shut lest she go blind.

The angel held out its mirrored hands in a gesture of openness. “I have not come here to fight you or to violate your sanctity, Goddess of Witches. I am merely here as a messenger and a witness.”

Two of her heads roared at him while the crone face snapped, “Why should I believe a filthy angel?”

From nothing, the angel produced a needle-like dagger. “I offer you my blade as assurance. If you feel I am an imposter, if I am here for any purpose other than to talk, you may kill me.”

For a fleeting moment before Hecate’s snarling heads blurred back into one, her pearl eyes blew wide with surprise. Slowly, she reached out to take the blade.

Willow exhaled in relief.

Hecate twirled the blade in her hand. “What is your message, Witness?”

Castiel’s flame tongue flickered. “My brother Gabriel and I took the Winchesters back to our world. Lucifer followed.”

“I am aware.” Hecate paced between them and the golden cage. “I tried to lock all the doors upon his departure, but not even I could seal the crack through which he slipped.”

By concentrating, Willow slowly moved away from Castiel. Perhaps she could rouse Artemis while Hecate was occupied.

But Hecate was no easily distracted monster. She began to phase in and out of her three forms. One pair of pearl eyes focused on Castiel, and another fixed firmly on Willow. “What are you doing, small one?”

Willow froze. _Of course Hecate would notice. I was moving with magic!_ “I’m doing exactly what you think I’m doing.”

One of the goddess’s heads yowled like an injured animal. “Did you think,” another face asked calmly, “that you could trick me with this ruse?”

“No trick was intended,” said Castiel. “How could we possibly hope to best you? Especially here?”

“It’s just,” Willow bit the inside of her cheek, “could I see her? She’s been powering my friend for so long.”

For a moment, Hecate closed her eyes as she phased back into one form. “After I deal with the angel.”

Confident in Willow’s obedience, Hecate turned her full attention to Castiel. She held up the blade threateningly. “What is your message?”

Castiel gave no sign of fear. “While in our dimension, the Winchesters – of course – stumbled upon a meeting of several gods discussing what to do regarding the angels’ war.”

“I received word of this meeting.”

“Lucifer arrived. He killed them all.”

Silence fell between them. Hecate lowered the blade.

“All?”

“Odin, Ganesh, Mercury–”

The scatter of stars on Hecate’s skin faded to black.

“Even my brother Gabriel. Kali and I were the only divine survivors.”

The goddess turned away from him. She wore only one broken-hearted face as she crouched beside the golden cage. “I am not surprised you found her, small one. After all, you found her vessel.”

Willow looked to Castiel for some clue what to do, but his frightening face was inscrutable. “What did Artemis do to you?” she whispered.

Hecate reached her hand through the bars to stroke the sleeping goddess’ hair. “Long ago, there was war. I only entered into the fray on behalf of you, my witches. I feared War and Father would be the death of you.”

“I thought you didn’t care about us?”

“I lied,” the goddess said. “Unlike the other deities of this realm, I procured the keys to wander where I wish. I have seen world after world at war. The people always lose. Demons take over. I do not share your view of demons as beings of evil, but I prefer humans. Their worship is deeper, more sincere, more powerful.”

“And Artemis?”

The goddess closed her pearl eyes. “She tried to bring Father back.”

Passing her arm through the cage and resting her hand on Hecate’s, Willow said, “Friends… disappoint you sometimes. The closer they are to you, the more it hurts. But friendship means you’re willing to give them another chance. I mean, I tried to end the world once – which you seem totally cool with?”

Something almost friendly flickered across the goddess’ face. “You tried with magic. It was thrilling.”

Willow swallowed hard. Thrilling wasn’t the word she’d have used. “Anyway, when I tried to end the world, my friends were there to stop me and help me. Right now, they’re fighting demons and angels who are trying to end the world. Let me use my magic, your magic. Let’s lead an army of Huntress-led Slayers and tell these angels to go to Hell.”

Hecate rose and stretched to her full height. Higher and larger she grew. A slight smile was visible under her moon eyes. “You have planned well.”

Artemis began to glow. 

* * *

 

Jo gasped for air. Why did the damn exorcism have to be so long? The fighting was wearing her down. The muffled roars beneath them didn’t help.

Andrew staked the last vamp before the recording finished. He bounced on his toes, looking like a joke of a boxer.

“Kid, save your energy,” said Ellen, leaning against a door.

“But I’m doing it! I’m a Scooby, and I’m heroing.”

Ellen smiled at him warmly. It had been a long time since they’d seen a happy hunter, let alone a green one.

The smile didn’t last. The door behind Ellen swung open, sending her toppling back into a classroom. She fell at the feet of a Bringer, his wicked blade raised high.

Andrew threw himself into the room, his stake held up to block the blow. His angle was off, and the dagger sliced through his wrist.

_Boom!_ One blast from Jo’s shotgun blew the Bringer away. She fished for more shells in her bag as more monks crawled through the classroom window.

Ellen pulled off her sweatshirt to wrap around Andrew’s gushing stump. “That was so brave,” she told him over and over, trying to keep him from panicking.

“I’m a Skywalker! I don’t want to be a Skywalker!” he screamed, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Jo struggled to keep the tremble from her voice. “Mom, we gotta go. He smells like bait.”

Andrew started to protest. “But our post!”

“Is lost! We can’t fight dragons. We’ll hunker down in the office.” Or die there.

* * *

 

Sam swung a sledge hammer at Spike, sending him into the pit. _That should be me_ , he thought. _Why Spike?_

Sam rushed to Dean’s side just as the first Turok-Han breached the cliff’s edge. Dean’s handsome face was purple and thick, one eye swollen shut. Blood gushed from his broken nose.

“Guess I don’t have to worry about saying yes.” They’d argued over the decision for weeks. Once the words spilled from Sam’s lips, they sounded like a shallow victory.

Dean, his mouth full of blood and broken teeth, tried to smile for his baby brother.

Through his tears, Sam looked around the cavern at the tattered army of girls trying to push back what the Hellmouth offered. The less-trained girls were falling left and right. He had to stash Dean somewhere and guard the spot. Guard him until they finished and could get help.

_Help from where?_ Their army was thinning fast.

“Can you walk?” he asked Dean.

Dean coughed, spraying Sam with blood. “It’s the end of the line. You know that.”

_Not again. Not again._ Hot bile rose in Sam’s throat. “I don’t accept that.”

Karen picked up the abandoned hammer and with one swing, knocked the Turok-Han back into the pit.

“Whoa!” She couldn’t contain her grin. “Did you see that? God, that felt amazing! I _feel_ amazing!”

A large demon with four curved horns and long tusks crawled out of the pit before her. She swung again, this time the demon’s face dented the hammer. “Guys, you need to move.”

With the flap of charred, fiery wings, Lucifer-in-Spike soared from the depths of the Hellmouth. He looked amused. “Sammy! I was so ready for a new toy.”

He swooped down, grabbed Dean by the collar and tossed him to the monsters below.

* * *

 

Xander worried he’d cave under pressure. He rolled his shoulders, but it didn’t help. He tried reaching with his free hand, but the spot was too far away.

Eyeing him curiously, Bobby asked, “Someone starch your shirts with itching powder?”

Keeping one hand on Willow, Xander shimmied uncomfortably. “It feels like a million bugs in the middle of my back and I just can’t reach!”

“Maybe it is a million bugs? Spell side effect,” said Dawn with a giggle.

Remembering the time a classmate’s textbook exploded with spiders, Xander’s shimmying increased.

Dawn scooched over to scratch Xander’s back with her free hand.

Bobby rolled his eyes.

All of a sudden, Willow’s hair and skin glowed silvery white as if she’d eaten the moon.

Everyone snapped back into place with two hands each on Willow.

“What’s happening? Did we anchor wrong?” Xander asked hurriedly.

“She’s warm! Does she feel warm?” Dawn added with equal panic.

Slowly, Willow opened her eyes, now two white pearls. As she rose, she began to phase in and out of three forms. Pinpricks of light dotted her skin. Clutching Artemis’ bow and arrows, she looked down on her awestruck anchors. “Flee.”

In a flash of light, she disappeared.

* * *

 

Giles’ heart pounded as he staked another vampire. He heard a wet slice and a thud before turning around in time to see a headless figure turn to dust inches away from him.

“–fortitudinem plebi Suae,” droned a recording of Bobby playing on loop over the school intercom.

Robin nodded a _you’re welcome._

“Benedictus deus. Gloria patri.” The remaining vampires turned to dust.

“Oh thank God!” Robin said, relaxing his arms for the first time in what felt like eternity.

“Could he speed that tape up or does the exorcism not work at chipmunk pitch?” asked Anya, taking a seat on an overturned vending machine.

A powerful wind like a sudden tornado knocked them to the ground; an ear-piercing squeal and blinding light followed it.

Their ears still ringing, they dared look around. “What the hell was that?” Anya asked.

“Not Hell,” said Giles.

* * *

 

Pinned to the rock, Buffy cut her hands trying to pull the sword from her abdomen, trying to save the man she loved, but she couldn’t do more than watch as Spike tossed Dean into the Hellmouth.

The air left her lungs. Her heart stopped beating.

Lara ran up to her, pulled the sword from Buffy’s gut, and put it in her hand. She was screaming something, but Buffy couldn’t hear.

_Dean was gone._

Spike – no, Lucifer-in-Spike – had his hands around Sam’s throat.

Karen, Julia, and Ginika took turns chopping at what looked like a violently mutated bull.

Mio lifted a Turok-Han over her head and tossed it back into the abyss.

_Dean was gone._

Molly and Wook tossed boulders into the abyss, celebrating as each hit knocked a monster back into the depths.

Maya grabbed the stinging tail of a lion-like creature and stabbed it in its eye.

Using a demon’s tentacles as a rope, Betje swung up on its giant shoulders and plunged her sword into its head.

Dean was gone, but her girls were radically present. Her Potentials were Slayers.

Suddenly, the cavern shook so hard, the kicked up dust obscured everything. Rocks crumbled all around Buffy accompanied by screams and roars as the crumbling cave impartially culled the warring armies.

An eerie quiet fell over the expanse as a blue light cut through the settling haze. Across the cavern, high up, what looked like a comet had crashed through the school. Only the comet was unfolding into a handsome young man, slimmer and sadder than his brothers, with lightning arcing from his back in spectacular wings.

_Adam._

Michael was barely keeping his vessel together.

A few demons ran straight for the visitor who promptly ripped them in half.

_He’s running low,_ Buffy thought. _He’s saving his energy for Lucifer._

A few demons, upon seeing their kin mutilated with ease, ran back to the Hellmouth. Several more charged Michael, weakened from his previous efforts, who resorted to beating the hoard back with his fists. Most of the demons resumed fighting the Slayers.

Buffy reached out to her nearest Slayer, Margo freshly finished with a Tuork-Han. “Tell the others we need to run. The angels are going to blow.”

Margo’s blonde curls bounced as she nodded and set off to warn the others.

Adrenaline pumping, Buffy launched into the fray. She sliced through the leg of a giant, cut off the slithering head of a demon, and threw a rock in the eye of a cyclops while trying to get to the beast who killed the man she loved.

“Hey, Lucy! Ready for round two?” she shouted.

Lucifer-in-Spike dropped Sam, gasping at his feet. “Why can’t you stay dead?”

She shrugged. “It’s kind of a thing.”

He grinned at her with a bitter hunger. With Lucifer’s flaming wings unfurled, he moved lightly through the chaos, leaving a trail of ash in his wake.

A large serpent passed between them, blocking her view. Buffy plunged her sword in its side, cutting its length. It hissed, wrapping its body around her, cracking her bones. Suddenly, the serpent exploded in a spray of blood.

She fell to the ground, coughing and coated in snake’s blood. Lucifer-in-Spike stood before her, pale blue lines criss-crossing his skin.

“Spike?” she said, “Spike, you’re a good man.”

He was on her in a flash, hands around her throat, turning the edges of her vision black. She tried to kick, to punch, to pull, but it felt like fighting stone with sand. “A sad little end for a pathetic little–”

He stiffened, his eyes softened as his hands eased up. He dropped to the ground screaming and clutching his head. Spike looked up, his eyes rimmed with tears. “‘ello, love.”

* * *

 

Free-falling into the Hellmouth, Dean thought quickly. He couldn’t dwell on Sam or Buffy, not while they were still in danger. Not while he could still save them before he died. He jammed his hand in his pocket for the horsemen’s rings.

Before he could throw them and open the cage, Dean stopped in mid air with a jerk before slowly rising. His feet found solid ground. A hand cupped his face, and his bones shifted back into place. The pain stopped.

Willow, the now white-haired, glowing vessel of Hecate, hovered before him. In cat pajamas and bunny slippers. “You can open it?” she asked in her chorus of voices.

She’d set him on a small ledge on the other side of the abyss, giving him a clear view of the Slayer army as well as Lucifer – prone on the ground near Buffy – and Michael, swarmed with hell beasts and burning through Adam.

“Why’d you save me?”

One of her heads cocked to the side while the other two met his gaze. “I have never wished you or the other vessels harm. I try to not interfere, but the angels have made no such promise. To survive I must change. I have awoken the Huntress.” She held out Artemis’ golden bow and quiver.

Dean looked across the abyss once more. The Potentials – even the quiet ones, the frightened ones – twirled and slashed their way around and through the monsters rising from beneath. They were kicking ass, but they couldn’t overwhelm what was coming.

“Little late, Sabrina. Artemis won’t be enough.”

“My vessel tells me you are the holder of a key; you can keep the angels from ever returning to my realm. Can you open the door?”

He snatched the bow and grabbed her hand. “Get me over there.”

* * *

 

_“William the Bloody can’t even play hero correctly.”_ Lucifer-as-Buffy’s voice rang in Spike’s head, judging him short. _“I gave you the chance to be my right hand, and you chose stinking humanity.”_

Spike remained on his knees clutching his head. _Bein’ a man is my highest aspiration,_ he replied. _For her. For her._

It took all of his focus to stay in control, to press the Devil down. He’d been reeling and trembling since letting Lucifer in. People had died while he got his bearings; Spike could still taste the blood. He’d watched in agony as his fists had beaten Dean to a pulp, as his hands had thrown his former rival into the pit – as he’d destroyed Buffy’s dreams.

Buffy cut off the head of a large hound made of maggots and kicked it away. A Turok-Han got the same. Left and right, Sam used his sledge hammer to crush demons to dust. _They were protecting him._

“Killing Dean wasn’t the plan. Kind of the opposite of the plan,” he shouted over the din.

Mourning painted her face. She couldn’t even give him words.

“What was the plan, Spike?” Sam asked between blows. “Did you honestly think you could beat the Devil?”

“Didn’t you?” Each time he looked at Sam, Lucifer’s rage sent a seering burn through Spike’s limbs.

Spike got to his feet. “Look, I’m keeping Lucifer down. I can still trap him,” he promised. “Lock up both the feathered bastards.”

Sam shook his head. “Dean had the key.”

Something in the abyss unleashed a thunderous roar. A great dragon flew up, dark blue like the night, with piercing gold eyes; its tail knocked against the back wall, and its leathery wings stretched across the cavern.

“I don’t remember this in training!” shouted Ju.

The dragon’s throat glowed like it had swallowed the sun. It reared back and blew fire at the ceiling, cracking loose several rocks. The Slayers ran for cover. Ju screamed as a large rock landed on her leg.

Buffy, Spike and Sam were perilously close to the dragon’s wing. One stray flap would toss them into the pit.

The dragon’s throat glowed again, and it belched fire all around them. Around them. High above floated Willow, her hands out held, giving each of them protection.

All save Michael, whose own protection caused more cracks in his imperfect vessel.

Small fingers interlaced with his. The dragon, the screaming, Lucifer – everything fell away. He locked eyes with Buffy as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Now’s your chance to be the hero you were meant to be, William.”

_Michael’s weak. He’s alone,_ Spike realized.

“Anything for you, love.” Spike took off across the room, dodging the dragon’s scaly mass and the Slayers descending upon it. Without the cage, the Hellmouth would have to do. Spike ran full force into Michael, sending him flying toward the edge.

* * *

 

With Spike in pursuit of Michael, Buffy turned her attention to the dragon. She climbed onto the dragon’s wing. Its head constantly swayed, knocking over Slayers and charred monsters alike. Some of the girls near its abdomen tried to slip their blades in under its scales. Pulling a dagger from her pocket, Buffy poked it through the wing, ripping and slicing as she ran toward its middle.

A tall figure ran up the dragon’s back and neck. It reared up when the person reached its head, sending him rolling back down its neck and off at the wing. He landed at Buffy’s feet, dizzy, dirty and smiling.

“Dean!”

He staggered to his feet and delivered Artemis’ bow and arrows. “Hey Girly! You miss me?”

Her heart raced, and her body warmed. The air stank of fire and blood, but she had never been happier. “Make out session later, for sure.”

“Making out? I just came back from the brink of death. That’s gotta be worth at least a blow job.”

Buffy smiled, “Surviving first.” She loaded two arrows on her bow, and fired. The arrows sank deep into the dragon’s eye, sending the creature flailing it’s head and tail. A shrinking scream pierced the air as one of the girls was knocked into the abyss. Buffy fired two more arrows into its eye as Hecate-in-Willow continued to protect them from its fiery wrath.

Lara and Keisha latched onto the arrows and swung onto its head. Other Slayers tossed them swords. One went for the other eye and the other the soft spot by the ear. The pin cushion stumbled and collapsed as the Slayers cheered.

More demons and monsters climbed over the edge of the Hellmouth.

“Where’s Sam?” Dean asked.

Buffy quickly looked around the cavern, which was rapidly filling with smoke. “You know, Sam seems so spottable until something dragon-sized pops up. Maybe he followed Spike to fight Michael?”

“Followed Spike? The Devil-possessed ex-vampire who’s sadly still a punk fan?”

“He’s in control now.” She didn’t want to place bets on how how long he could last.

“Great timing. He’s still the Devil’s suitcase.” Dean took off to where a blue light glowed beyond the dead dragon.

Buffy resumed her fight, calling on the girls to retreat to the stairs, praying to live another day.

* * *

 

Spike and Michael wrestled on the ground, the dragon’s wing keeping them from rolling off the edge. A few yards away, Sam fought off any demon that tried to come close.

Relieved and confused, Dean joined his brother. “There a reason we’re protecting these feathered shits?”

Sam dropped his sledge hammer in shock. Tears filled his eyes.

“Hecate,” Dean said. “Chick flick moment later.”

His baby brother wiped his eyes before picking his hammer up again. “The demons only want to attack Michael. If he keeps fighting them instead of Spike, he’ll blow his vessel before we can get them in the pit. Or the cage. I guess the cage is an option again.” Sam, sweaty and bloody, smiled like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Oh yeah!” Dean pulled the rings from his pocket and tossed the them near the struggling angels. The ground around the rings gave way to a black pit. Pebbles began to roll into it, then stones.

Spike, difficult to make out through the blaring light he emitted, looked up. “You’re alive!”

“I tried death once or twice. Didn’t like it.” Dean pointed up to Willow phasing in and out of the forms as she blasted demons back into the Hellmouth.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Spike replied.

Michael punched Spike in the face hard enough for Dean to hear bones crack. Stunned, Spike rolled on the ground.

With a sneer of pride on his lips, Michael stood over Spike. “You weren’t even strong enough to best one pathetic vessel. I win, little brother.” In that second, three golden arrows landed – _pfft! pfft! pfft!_ – in Michael’s heart.

Spike leapt up and shoved Michael into the cage.

A small laugh escaped Sam’s lips.

All around them, demons howled as Hecate-in-Willow continued her assault. The air was thick with sulfur and smoke. Girls continued to rush towards the escape – towards life. “C’mon, Spike!” Dean called, hand outstretched. “Time to hit the road!”

Spike looked as his hands, a shattering shell, as if something holy were about to hatch.

But there was nothing holy inside him.

“I’m glad you two ended up in Sunnydale,” Spike shouted over the din. “You’ve been a good friend to me, Sam. Probably the best mate I ever ‘ad.”

Sam swallowed hard, holding back tears.

“Uh, okay. Let’s buddy comedy on the road,” Dean said.

Spike shook his head and took a small step towards the cage. “Dean, Buffy likes men with demons. Don’t let your demons get the upper hand, like I did.”

“Spike, you were literally possessed. We can unpossess you again,” Dean promised, knowing it was a lie.

“Love her. Have a life. Make little ankle biters, okay? She deserves everything.” Spike spread his arms wide, and fell backwards into the black hole of the cage.

The ground began to shake and crack as the entrance to the cage grew bigger, sucking in the dragon’s wing, then the dragon. Sucking in the Hellmouth. Sam and Dean sprinted for the exit. A girl in blood-stained nightgown tripped near the ledge and the cage claimed her.

Potentials raced up the broken stairs, leaping to the doorway back to the school.

The Winchesters and Buffy gazed down on the Hellmouth from the school’s basement door. Bodies and blood littered the ground. Monsters still climbed over the edge, some immediately being consumed by the ravenous maw of the cage. A light appeared from within that black abyss, and a hand grasped the cage’s edge.

“Stay out!” commanded Hecate-in-Willow, flying to the mouth of the cage and pushing the surviving angel back into its depths. The cage snapped shut behind her with a deep boom, and the cavern started to collapse.

They dashed through the basement and through the main hallway upstairs, shouting through the building smoke for people to run. The roars of demons followed them.

Outside dawn was just starting to break over the waiting cars. The packed bus took off as the sidewalk cracked beneath Buffy and the Winchesters. Buffy dove into Giles’ car with her sister, hugging her tight. Cramped in the back of the Impala sat the Harvelles holding a pale, sweaty Andrew; Bobby was already revving the engine as the Winchesters slid in. Tires squealing, they took off, the streets collapsing behind them.

Just past the city limits, the ground stopped quaking. To be safe, they drove on another mile before daring to stop. Slayers poured from the bus; some somber, some injured, some delighted at the power running through them.

Ignoring the hoops and hollers, pushing past the questions, Buffy and her friends slowing walked back to the edge of the Hellmouth. The Sunnydale city limits sign was singed and still boasting several thousand residents in the crater of a town glowing red in the early morning light. Soon the low whir of helicopters filled the air.

“That was maybe overkill,” Anya said as she cradled her arm.

“Was it though?” Sam retorted.

“What should we tell them?” Dawn asked.

“I’m going with wild slumber party.” Xander gestured at the girls still in their pajamas. “Hey, where’s Will?”

Giles put his arm around Buffy’s shoulder and they rested their heads together. “You’re not the only one anymore. What do you want to do first?”

Smiling, Buffy met Dean’s gaze and then collapsed.

* * *

 

They filled the waiting room. Dozens of Slayers – bandaged, stitched, bruised – spilled from the chairs, leaned against the walls, claimed space on the floor. They’d survived. They’d arrived.

Dawn, her legs curled up under her, was fast asleep in a chair. Giles, Robin, Bobby and Ellen sipped coffee from cups too small to combat their fatigue. Xander’s eyes were battle-weary, his gaze hollow.

Dean trudged into the waiting room and slumped into a chair between his brother and Bobby. “They’re taking her in for surgery.”

“She’ll be okay.”

“‘Course she will. She’s Supergirly.”

Within minutes of Buffy’s collapse, helicopters had landed on the now-useless highway out of Sunnydale. Blood from her stab wound had gone unnoticed, mingling with the monster blood soaking her clothes. Officially, she was one more anonymous injury of “the sudden sinkhole incident.”

The doctor said she may have some organ damage. Was that in the realm of Slayer healing? He also said Buffy was lucky. “Whatever impaled her just missed an artery. She would have died in minutes.”

Dean couldn’t help but wonder if Spike had pushed Lucifer off target.

“Do you guys want anything?” Andrew asked, quietly.

“Coffee. Irish,” Dean grumbled.

“I think they only have American and Colombian, but I’ll ask. Anyone wanna give me a hand?” Holding up his bandaged stump, he smiled at his own joke.

Anya pointed at her arm in a sling. “Together we can make a whole person.”

Jo put down the magazine she’d been staring at but not reading. “Come on. Maybe we can rummage up some snacks for the refugees.”

Looking at the crowd of girls flush with new powers, Sam chuckled.

Robin raised his eyebrows. “Care to fill me in on the invisible joke?”

“It’s not a joke, just irony. All of the Potentials are Slayers now, but we closed the Hellmouth. All this time it’s been one girl against everything Hell could throw at her. Now it’s an army against Hell’s stragglers.”

“I wish it were that simple, Sam,” said Giles, his voice raw from tiredness and tears. “In addition to there being more Hellmouths –”

Dean threw up his hands. “Of course. Where?”

“Detroit for starters, but that’s an ongoing problem. There are more Potentials-turned-Slayers out there, girls pulsing with power they don’t know what to do with. We have to find them, train them before someone else gets to them, before they hurt someone. Trouble is, we’re low on Watchers.”

Ellen smirked. “You gotta have a posh British accent and glasses to be a Watcher?”

“Well, no –”

“‘Cause I see nearly a dozen people right here who’d gladly pitch in.”

“Gladly my ass,” said Bobby, squinting at Ellen like she’d volunteered him for the ballet. “I raised those two. I’m done!”

Ellen grabbed his face and turned it toward a circle of pajama-clad girls giving each other back rubs as they swapped stories. “Look at them and say no. You’re not that much of a gruff asshole.”

Bobby sighed. “Fine, but they ain’t living with me.”

Looking lively for once, Giles stood and stretched his shoulders. “Traditionally, a Watcher moves to the hometown of a Potential to train her, but seeing as we have so many Slayers at once, I was hoping to take half of them to England and while the other half remain to train with Buffy.”

“In Detroit?” Dean asked.

“Excellent idea, Dean!” Giles said with a half grin. “Of course, all of our resources were in Sunnydale.”

It was Sam’s turn to smile. “Good thing Anya, Willow and I put together a database of most of what was in Buffy’s books.”

“About that.” Xander’s voice was full of bite. “Can we stop daydreaming about the future for a second? Willow is dead.”

* * *

 

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

Head thick with sleep but thankful to be yanked from her terrible dream, Buffy was positive she’d not set the alarm. She reached out to turn it off, but couldn’t find it. Had they slept in the bed funny again?

A large, calloused hand found hers. Her heart hummed. She wanted to start every morning holding Dean’s hand.

“Dean, will you kill that thing?”

“What thing?” he whispered.

“The beep beep. Death to beep beep.”

“I think the nurses would be pretty pissed if I turned that off.”

Buffy opened her eyes to find monitors and tubing on and in her body. A hospital. It wasn’t a dream. The fire. Spike possessed by Lucifer. Dean nearly dying. The Slayers. The dragon. The Hellmouth collapsing.

Spike.

Willow.

Agony sat on her chest, crushing her heart, drawing out a wail from her throat. Dean’s arms were around her, her face buried in the crook of his neck as the tears flowed. Other arms joined her. Xander, Dawn, Giles, Anya and Sam filled the room. She let go of Dean to hug Xander, his eyes bloodshot from crying.

“I know. I know. She was the best of all of us.” His voice was low and raw.

She wouldn’t argue. Willow was sweet and strong. Even before becoming a witch, she embodied power and bravery, standing up to vampires and throwing herself into the fray not because she had super strength or because she was chosen but because it was right.

Her friends stayed to share memories of Willow. Eventually, the conversation turned to Detroit and the new Slayers. All the while, Dean hovered by her side, keeping her in tissues and water.

She didn’t remember falling asleep.

When she awoke again, everyone had gone save Dean. “The local news is calling us refugees. Everyone who isn’t in recovery left to settle in. Some center is putting everyone up for the night, pizza dinner included.”

Her stomach rumbled at the mention of food. Throwing off her blanket, she swung her feet to the cold tile floor. “Cafeteria?”

Lacing his fingers with hers, he grinned. “Does this count as a date.”

“One of our better ones, hopefully.”

In the elevator, he kissed her hand, his lips lavishing over each knuckle. She was sore and exhausted; both thrilled and so upset she kept reminding herself to breathe at a normal rhythm. But his kisses calmed her.

“Dean, I–”

He was pressing his lips to hers, one hand cradling her back, the other tangled in her hair. The kiss was long, firm, with his tongue lightly tasting her lips. Heat spread from core to her toes.

_Ding._

The elevator doors opened on a man holding flowers and three small children holding pink “Welcome Baby!” balloons gaping at them.

A different sort of heat rushed through Buffy, but Dean just put on a charming smile and pushed past them. He grinned at her embarrassment. “The guy’s got four kids, Girly. I’m sure that’s not the most action they’ve stumbled across.”

He brushed his fingers over her neck to play with her hair again. “You were awesome back there.”

“In the elevator?”

“In the Hellmouth.”

“I thought I’d lost you.”

“You’re stuck with me now, like that one jingle.” He started to hum a tune from a cheesy local car lot that bought excessive air time on all the radio stations.

“No! Now I’m going to be singing it forever!”

“Just like me. I’m here forever, even if I’m annoying. In fact, I was thinking with this whole Detroit thing –”

“Ew.” The idea of winters and driving everywhere did not appeal to her.

“– I was thinkin’ maybe we could get a place together.” His face shifted from sexy to boyish as he spoke, the implication almost overwhelming him.

“Absolutely,” she said, grabbing his shirt and pulling him in for another kiss.

“You must be my six o’clock wedding.” A priest stepped out of an office near them, wrenching them out of their moment. “You don’t look like a cancer patient. Glad to see you’re on the mend!”

“Oh, we’re not–!”

“We’re here!” said a man coming down the hall, pushing a wheelchair. The woman in the chair was sunken-eyed, a scarf over her head, and an oxygen mask over her face. Buffy didn’t know much about cancer, but she figured the woman couldn’t possibly live to see Christmas. Still the woman couldn’t stop smiling each time she glanced back at the man who rolled her into a nearby chapel.

“Sorry, uh, carry on,” the priest said before following the couple.

For years, Buffy had feared hospitals. They were places for the sick and dying. Places where the newly departed roamed. But could they also be places of hope? A place full of babies and newlyweds. Of people who would walk again. Of people granted a second chance to get things right.

Hope. 

The Slayer’s gift was death. Her role costarred monsters. But death could co-exist with life. Beauty with pain. Hope with horror.

Buffy and Dean considered the closed chapel door, then stared at each other, hoping to read what the other was thinking.

“You feeling impulsive?” Dean asked.

“Yeah.”

New beginnings. New cities. New Watchers. New Slayers. The same Dean Winchester.

Hope.

He bit his lip and looked back at the door. “It’s not just you anymore.”

“We could have a life. Are you feeling impulsive too?” 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Epilogue**

 

It felt like a parade was marching through her skull. Willow slowly sat up, hoping she wouldn't aggravate the bandleader. 

Sunlight poured through the smeared windows. She sat at a desk, facing a chalkboard. Yes, she’d gone to the school to wake Artemis while Buffy and company opened the Hellmouth and threw Lucifer in the cage. 

But something was off about this classroom. 

The school was still standing; they must have won. But what about Sam? She had to find Buffy. Her friends, if they had survived, were probably worried about her.

Still groggy, she stood, the desk’s feet squealing across the tile floor. That's when she noticed her red mary janes with daisy buckles, her favorite shoes in seventh grade. She wore white tights and a blue and white plaid jumper even though she hadn't owned such a thing since graduating. Willow faintly recalled fighting in her cat’s pajamas jammies.

Opening the classroom door, she noticed a banner: _Welcome to Middle School, Spartans!_ She remembered this. Her least favorite year of school. Only, the yellow hallway lined with green lockers extended into a dismal forever.

“There's no place like home.” Willow clicked her heels together. 

The hallway remained. 

“Can I at least get a dog?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for coming with me on this five year journey.


End file.
